part three;

White. A flash of white. He smelled the sweet scents of summer, the slicing aroma of laundry detergent, the hot atmosphere beating down on his back. His mother smiled at him, summery white dress twirling around her waist. “Close your eyes honey,” she whispered, grinning wider. “Close your eyes!”

Baekhyun eyed his mother with suspicion. Jocular behavior was common on her part. “Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh come on! Stop asking.”

He finally sighed, breathing a breath of exasperated air in surrender. “Fine. But you better not be pranking me Mom.” Shutting his eyes, placing his hands behind his back in an antique manner, he waited with patience.

“Open them!” her voice finally rung, like a chime of welcoming church bells.  

Baekhyun cautiously allowed himself to see, inhaling a breath of curious air. Before him was a small chocolate cake, dripping with the delights of icing and cream, made with care and given with love. A desert was luxury that the Byun household couldn’t afford to indulge themselves in. Little fancies like sweets were reserved for birthdays. But unlike other children, Baekhyun never celebrated his birthday with a treat like this. It was a rare sight he treasured and he feared of eating it.

“C-cake?” Baekhyun mumbled, cocking his head to the side. Excitement breathed down his back.

“Yes! Do you want some?” his mother asked, her smile radiant like the glare of a million suns. Her beauty seemed to glow, the river-like wrinkles near her eyes joining, her sculpted hands clasped together.

“Do I!?” Baekhyun called out enthusiastically, reaching his index finger out to sweep the icing off the side. He pursed his lips, his finger clean. The taste settled, like a burst of richness, the smooth texture lingering on his inexperienced tongue. “Mmm.”

“It’s good right?” his mom asked, warmly chuckling. Baekhyun looked at her, memorizing the heart shape of her slim lips, ovular elegant face, glossy eyes, pink cheeks, brown curls settling around her back.

“Yeah. Do you want some?”

His mom shook her head gently. “No, honey. Eat as much as you can! And save a slice for your father, all right?” Her eyes were cloudy, misty in the blurred waves of heat. He wasn’t sure if she why her eyes appeared slightly watery. Maybe she wanted to cool down, therefore dripping liquid in her eyes. He methodically sliced a piece of cake, settled it on a plate and handed it to his mother.

“Mom, I’m not sure what’s happening with your eyes. Why are they wet? Maybe some cake will help, right?” Baekhyun craved to see his mom eat it.

“No, no. That’s all right. And my eyes aren’t wet silly. Eat up.”


Craving, waiting, haunting, raw. Beating like waves of bursting cold and fury. Rushing, pouring, taking. The demented hysteria screamed in him, calling like mute birds. Silence. That was all he heard, all he said, all he conceived, all he needed, all he hated. The whirl of insanity consumed him, breathed in his ear, his mouth, his heart. Eating his heart away like poisonous acids. He yearned. He wanted. He loved. But he never could have what he desired so desperately.

“Baekhyun. Do you hear me? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” someone called to him. He reached for the voice, pulling onto the anchor, sinking in puddles, drowning in confusion. Why were his cheeks suddenly slicked with liquid? Dripping into his mouth, tasting of salty disaster?

A hand caressed his cheek, a thumb stopped the flow of water seeping from his eyes. He held onto it, gripped it, trying to pull himself out from the infinite dreams of darkness. “Jongin?” he heard himself whisper, saw himself in a pool of chestnut warm eyes. He relished that name, treasured it like the last piece of life he had.

“Baekhyun, listen to me. Listen please,” Jongin begged.

“Leave me alone,” Baekhyun said blankly, finally. The bare emotions, the damage, the pain, the agony, was gone as if of spirit and life. His eyes held no secrets, his lips burned of nothing. There was nothing.

“Baekhyun—”

“Leave me alone. Go.”

Baekhyun listened to the door shut, watching Jongin’s tall figure leave, closing the door, turning the knob. It clicked with finality. The thin border of normal and derangement had been crossed, entered and abandoned like a constant cycle. He felt the delirium rise within him then die.

He reached for a large canvas, empty of meaning, commotion, and passion. The palette was in his left hand before he registered what he was doing. He squeezed a tube of black oil on it, then grabbed a large brush, the tips inflated with overuse before he rinsed it in the obsidian. Experienced fingers swished up and down, back and forth endlessly before covering the entirety with ebony. With black.

Baekhyun stopped, there was nothing to paint anymore.

He lay in his bed before rolling over and opening his drawer. In it was the only picture album he had, filled with photos of his parents, of objects that captivated him, of landscapes that he admired. And of Park Chanyeol. Like Jongin, Byun Baekhyun had his own lover, someone he was assured would never be wrung out of his heart in a flood of tears. The last pages were dedicated to his bouncy, hyper, childish half. Exuberant autumn red-orange curls covered his head, wide hazel eyes that twinkled with wonder, wonderfully shaped lips. The lips that he had first kissed. Before he contemplated his actions, the fragments of his memory was ripping before him, tearing, cracking, disappearing. Pictures of his mom, father, friends, family were torn, thrown onto the floor like a wonderland of paper. Chanyeol’s was pulled, tugged, torn.

Thrown and forgotten.

Baekhyun understood now. Baekhyun knew.

Lies. Fake. Everything was fake in this cage of metal.

Tears readily poured down his cheekbones now, sliding past his lips, rolling down his neck. Thoughts ricocheted in his mind, barreling at him in an unbearable force. His mother, his father, Chanyeol. It was a haze, a blur, faces before his eyes. And what about Jongin? Dark, caramel skin, welcoming lips … what had he uttered with those perfectly molded pair of plush lips? What did he say?
Had he told Baekhyun that he possibly loved him?

Did Kim Jongin tell Baekhyun that he loved him?

Baekhyun didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

Baekhyun faced himself in front of his bathroom mirror. His face was pale, wiped of color, like a canvas. His eyes were wide, rimmed with droplets of tears. He blinked slowly, forcing his mind to empty before smashing his fist into the glass. The shards bit into his skin, tearing in, forced with pain. Blood dripped from his knuckles and he stared at his hands curiously. People have always told him his hands, his fingers, were exquisitely shaped and beautifully slim. What were they now? Bloodied, covered in metallic crimson. He watched the blood slide down the pearl-white sink, evaporating and disappearing altogether.

Things leave too quickly from his life.

He exited the bathroom and picked up his canvas, dripping blood onto it, splattering it.

Baekhyun took a much thinner brush, dipped its bristles in, before beginning to paint a human. Although he rarely painted recklessly, he felt a need for it now. He had always made the outlines in pencil, marking it with an organization he liked before applying oils or acrylics. But he didn’t want to now. Swirl, curve, mix, blend, create. A person was drawn, a peach/pale-colored face, almond-shaped eyes, lips.

Baekhyun was painting himself amongst the void of blackness.

He gathered his art materials, putting them in a neat satchel, before leaving his apartment. Down the hall, around the bends to an air tube. There were no people nearby currently, most likely sleeping, resting, waking to a new day. He collected his bravery and the air surrounded him, crushed him as he zoomed upwards, toward the forbidden floor. But it didn’t matter where he go. Into the heavens, where sunlight melted around him, oozed through his fingers like liquid, bathed him in warmth. Or into the depths of hell, where sins and whispers called to him for eternity, wrapped in pain and agony, swirling with flames. Upwards or down, the metal walls would always be around him.

The control room was empty of people and he was thankful as he made his way to the room where he stored his happiness, joy, love. He breathed, trying to differentiate right and wrong. But he didn’t want to anymore. There was no use for it.

He opened the door, pressed the red button and watched the sky. The glittering multitude appeared before him, expanding all around to infinity, spinning around like a tornado of beauty. He sat down and gazed. How long? Minutes? Hours? Days? There was nothing but the purplish black and the twinkling vastness.

Baekhyun grabbed his canvas and pulled out his paintbrushes before mixing every color he saw onto his palette. There was too much to even make, too beautiful to imitate. He then patiently painted each star, every star in his line of sight. Magnificence breathed around him, rainbows of colors pouring everywhere.

Color. Color. Coloring. He was lost in his wonderland, engulfed in curiosity and filled with amazement. Where did stars go when they died? Baekhyun questioned himself. Did they escape? Did they burn for eternity? Did they vanish? Could he vanish himself? Everything hurt him, everything killed him. Even the stars couldn’t rob him of sadness.

Maybe his parents were among the stars. Maybe Chanyeol was drifting there too.

“Baekhyun.” Someone had called his name behind him and he turned around to see Jongin. He was dressed in modest black, hair slicked up. He appeared much more wiser than he modest age of twenty. When he laid his eyes on Jongin, his heart burst with unbearable emotion.

Jongin joined him on the floor, sitting down without a sound. Instead of looking up, he turned to Baekhyun. Watched him.

“I-I remembered what you said to me,” Baekhyun said quietly.

“What happened?” Jongin asked, pulling Baekhyun’s right hand. The blood had dried, enveloping his knuckles in red.

“Nothing,” Baekhyun quickly assured, retracting his fingers from Jongin’s hold.

Baekhyun finally turned away from the sky and turned to Jongin. His heart twisted within him. The blood that once pumped and beat for Park Chanyeol now raced for Kim Jongin. The message that filled within him was undeniable. He loved Jongin.

“I love you,” Baekhyun said softly in the dimness. When his lips uttered those three words, those packed syllables, he knew he meant it and he wouldn’t ever take it back. Their lips met with a ponderous greeting. For a hesitant moment, cold tense oxygen fluttered around them before Jongin pressed his lips to Baekhyun. Intensity and passion pulsed between them, mixed with the care and compassion. Hunger, need, want. That was all that was said in the silence. The screaming silence.

Baekhyun pulled back, feeling as if life had been and added to him at the same time. Everything confused him. What about Chanyeol? Jongin was so different from Chanyeol. And yet, the pull, the need, the love that vibrated between them. Chanyeol was nothing more than a distant memory now. There was nothing but Kim Jongin.

★

Jongin traced his own lips in a cycle in front of his bedroom mirror, trying to memorize the shape of Baekhyun’s mouth. He looked at his bemused face, his cast of blunt features turned up in curiosity. But his eyes also glistened in pain. He recalled the rawness of Baekhyun’s finger, the glowing look in his eyes.

He whispered to himself, the unrehearsed declaration of love. It was so easy now. To just utter those three words, with no waiting for the other to respond. Once there was Kyungsoo, now there was Baekhyun.

Baekhyun had said he needed some time, some stolen moments for himself, to watch the stars. He had seen a canvas propped against his knee and took it as a sign that he was drawing what could never be put on paper.

That night, as he slept, he dreamt.

Of everything compacted into nothing. Of love blended with hatred. Of black mixed with white. The shadows danced in his head, subdued but still a constant reminder than darkness did not escape. It followed, it led, it clutched at him as he waited for the blackness to swallow him so the pain could disappear. So he could wither. Like he had seen Baekhyun wither.

The next day, he immediately visited Baekhyun’s apartment after locating it in his hoverscreen. The slighter boy, his other half, was seated in his chair amongst the walls plastered with numerous masterpieces. It was as if his wall was a bare window, revealing the depths of his soul. Landscapes, portraits … he saw himself amongst the collage. Baekhyun didn’t look up as he seated himself down on his small, plain bed. Baekhyun’s exquisite fingers were wrapped in bandages, although that did not restrain him. Before Baekhyun was a large black canvas, dotted with stars. Although it was a far cry from the true sky, it was beautiful nonetheless.

“What are you doing here?” Baekhyun asked, still not looking up, but intently staring at his canvas.

“I wanted to see you. And I want to take a picture with you.”

Jongin had brought along his polaroid camera, a small thing that he had found in a sector within the confines of EXO. It was small, flimsy, and quite ancient. But he enjoyed snapping ametur photos with it. He had used the same polaroid camera to capture Kyungsoo’s face.

Baekhyun looked up, a small grin dancing on his lips. He eyed with device in Jongin’s hand. “What is that?” he questioned, touching it curiously.

“It’s a polaroid camera,” Jongin said simply. “Now come here quickly.” With dexterous movement, he brought the camera out and pulled Baekhyun toward him. The warmth from his cheeks spread as he smiled widely, ensuring that Baekhyun did the same, before snapping it quickly. He waited as the picture processed, watching Baekhyun’s delighted face as it popped out.

He and Baekhyun were smiling widely, both eyes directed toward the camera. Their faces were close together and Jongin’s hand reached was reached out, taking the picture. Their bright pupils exonerated how they felt. Baekhyun reached for the glossy polaroid Jongin offered and he rubbed his finger on it.

“Mind if I keep it?” Baekhyun asked, receiving a shake of the head from Jongin.

Baekhyun taped it on his wall. Although it was a small, miniature addition to his large collection of artworks, it seemed to glow. “Thanks.”

Jongin nodded before sitting down, pondering before quickly getting up and standing behind Baekhyun. “Let’s do something today Mr. Byun,” Jongin said, grinning.

Baekhyun spun around in his swivel chair, crossing his arms playfully. “Where?” he asked. But in those words, it sounded like he already had agreed to the plan.

“Anywhere. I know a lot of places. Let’s just go!” Jongin said in an arbitrary manner.

They quickly exited the building, Jongin tugging on his coat as he ran before stopping and glancing at Baekhyun. Baekhyun looked surprised from the attention. “What? Is there something on my face?” he asked, quickly brushing his clothing and hair.

Jongin smiled and interlaced his fingers with Baekhyun. Their hands clasped perfectly, both interlocking as if made to held each other. Jongin’s hand was slightly larger than Baekhyun’s, and he felt an explosion of affection for the hand he gripped.

They continued on their path, first to the market. As a respected official, Jongin received keen attention and formal greetings in contrast to what Baekhyun was used to. They purchased ingredients to Jongin’s accordance, mostly spices and vegetables. “Have you tasted kimchi?” Jongin asked, attentive on placing the items into the cart.

Baekhyun repeated the name, letting it roll of his tongue. He never heard of such an exotic food. “No.”

“I make good kimchi, mixed with cheese. Not to brag or anything. But K—” Jongin came to an abrupt halt. Kyungoo’s name was going to easily escape his lips, as if they were on friendship status, as if nothing had occurred to crumble their relationship. As if Jongin hasn’t been hurt.

Baekhyun looked empathic, lips upturned slightly. “Kyungsoo?”

“Y-yeah.”

Jongin didn’t know why or how he almost said his name. Was Kyungsoo still in his heart? Was he wiped away, as easy as an unwanted bug? He knew, like almost everyone knew, that first loves remained in one’s heart forever. Unforgettably sour yet sweet like chocolate. Kyungsoo still occupied one piece of his heart, because he was his first. They were both firsts for each other. It was easy now to say his name, easy now that his heart didn’t ache.

They proceeded in silence for a while before they began to joke around, relaxing in one another’s company. They returned to Jongin’s home, and Baekhyun waited in the whitewashed dining room as Jongin cooked the kimchi. Jongin felt content with how they were right now, together.

“Hey, why are your belongings so white-based?” Baekhyun asked.

“I like the color white.”

“Is it because you’re dark?”

Jongin grinned, letting a laugh escape his lips. “I’m not much more tan than you are, Baekhyun.”

“You’re darker than you think,” Baekhyun said dryly.

Jongin finished and placed the dish before Baekhyun. Consisting of napa cabbage, radish, scallion, and cucumber. The vegetables were drenched in red, and it looked quite appalling to him. “It is edible right?” Baekhyun asked.

Jongin chuckled. “What do you take me for?” He grabbed a fork and stabbed a leaf of cabbage before shoving it into Baekhyun’s mouth. Jongin recounted the first time he tried kimchi. Kyungsoo had introduced it to him and taught him the basics. He remembered the joy he felt at the time, laughing, eating, spending time with Kyungsoo. But it wasn’t Kyungsoo with him now, it was Baekhyun.

Baekhyun nodded, chewing slowly and swallowing. “It’s good but viciously spicy.”

Jongin smiled, cupping Baekhyun’s face with his hand in affection. “That’s mild for me.”


They spent the rest of the day together, in each other’s company, wrapped in each other’s warmth. It was a sanctuary, a relief. The phantoms were gone, vanished. But it wasn’t guaranteed that they wouldn’t come back.

They talked about their desires, hobbies and dislikes. From Jongin, Baekhyun learned that he was naturally blunt but shy. From Baekhyun, Jongin learned that he was charming and quite weird. But what interested Baekhyun the most was that Jongin’s favorite pastime was dancing. Since second grade, Jongin had learned the art of jazz and ballet dancing. And Baekhyun insisted that Jongin show him.

In an empty room within the apartment, Jongin danced, not with his two feet but with his heart. He bent, spun, and drew lines in the air. He seemed to flexible, he could’ve broken. There was no line, no stopping, no end. The movements told the story of his life.

★

Baekhyun felt the sadness in watching Jongin dance. The agony. The anguish. How could have he forgotten of everything he loved? Everything he treasured? He left Jongin’s home at night, his heart feeling heavy.

He cried alone, shouting his tears into the air as he slid down, against the wall. He did love Jongin, but how could he replace him with his parents? With Chanyeol?

He heard Jongin’s voice echo through his brain.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Over and over.

Was everything horrible condemned to happen to him? Was their an existence of happiness? How could one person embody it when he yearned for more people? The smile of his mom. The laughter of his dad. The twitch of Chanyeol’s eye.

He went to see the stars again.

He took his painting.

And he painted. Like how Jongin danced.

Baekhyun examined the room filled with stars, feeling all the contraptions. He entered a small room that had the ability to open into space.

The next day, he propped the painting on Jongin’s door.

★

Jongin opened the door next morning, prepared for work, before discovering a large canvas at his feet. It slowly fell to the ground with a thud. He picked it up gingerly, immediately knowing it was Baekhyun’s. It was an attempt to recreate the stars on paper, on such a small vicinity. And yet, it glowed. It spoke. But what was most intriguing was that there was a figure in the middle, arms open as if flying, escaping. It was Baekhyun. Eyes closed, gentle smile, he looked peaceful.. It was the face of the man he had come to love.

And understand.

The world shuddered to a halt. The ground spun. The oxygen he craved was stolen. He was falling, drowning, collapsing. Dying. There was nothing anymore. The blackness pushed at him, pressing against his chest, face, legs. The air was squeezed from him and pressured him.

The painting fell from his hands. And he ran. His legs burned as he pumped, pushed, shoved. He pushed himself into the air tube and felt the wind bite as his face, altercating him.

Jongin ran.

Baekhyun breathed slowly, exhaling and inhaling as he stepped closer. The vast stars were before him.

Jongin ran.

Baekhyun walked closer to the door.

Tears began to stream down Jongin’s face as he ran, harder. There was no such thing as exhaustion, no such thing as pain. There was only love.

Baekhyun pressed the button and entered the small room.

Jongin felt his heart crack and crumble and break and bruise.

Baekhyun pressed the red button as the air vanished and disappeared. He desperately gulped in what wasn’t there anymore.

Jongin ran through the control room and cried as he watched Baekhyun open the door. He screamed his name until his throat hurt. He screamed for Baekhyun as the world crashed around him. He screamed and screamed and screamed. Baekhyun. Baekhyun. Baekhyun. Baekhyun.

Jongin screamed his heart out.

Baekhyun saw no pity in the glowing, glittering multitude. His lips moved before he was into nothingness.

“I … love … you.”